


What We Are: Fleurmione Week Sneak Peeks

by cationix, waxwing_Saint



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dancing, F/F, FW2021.1, Fleurmione Babies, Fleurmione week, Jealousy, Romance, Soulmates, Teasers, There's only One Bed!, Triwizard Tournament, Underage Drinking, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cationix/pseuds/cationix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/waxwing_Saint/pseuds/waxwing_Saint
Summary: For Fleurmione Week March 2021, we're posting teasers from our Big Damn Project:The Triwizard Tournament brought them together with a mysterious pull of attraction. Hermione wants answers but Fleur is willing to fight fate until it kills her. With a war going on--Fleur on the front lines and Hermione hunting for fragments of Voldemort’s soul--will they accept their destiny, or are they doomed to become a cautionary tale?
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 63
Kudos: 138
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2021.1





	1. Extended Authors' Note

**cationix and waxwing_Saint celebrate Fleurmione Week!**

What we should have done when we realized that we weren’t going to be able to do anything for Fleurmione Week was to sit back and enjoy all of your fresh content like normal people. That is not what we’re doing.

We’re posting teasers.

It is common knowledge that, in the wild, fic writers feed on the energy of fic readers and convert that energy into the will to write, so we’ve decided to post teasers of our Big Damn Project that coincide with the themes of Fleurmione Week! That’s right, we’re baiting a trap, we’re hunting for food...listen, we’ve been writing in seclusion for a long time. Mostly we’re gauging interest. This project is getting done one way or the other, but it’d be nice to know if anyone actually wants to read it.

Blahblahblah, I know you’re bored, let me tell you _about the fic:_

> **What We Are** is a classic canon-divergence Fleurmione fic that starts in Goblet of Fire and follows the baes as they slow burn their stubborn asses through the war.

Like you haven’t seen enough of those fics, right? We hope ours is worth your attention.

We take liberties with the canon (Hagrid doesn’t bring Maxime into the forest, Krum gets held up during the second task, Gabrielle is aged up, Bill is gay, that kind of thing) but the timeline and overall arc of canon remains relatively unchanged. The Fleur we’ve created in What We Are is burdened and fierce, quietly passionate, intensely loyal, and has decided she knows what’s best for Hermione...as you can imagine, that doesn’t go well for her.

Each snippet will come pre-installed with just a smidge of context since they’re being ripped from the middle of full scenes and offered to you out of chronological order. We chose scenes that are all grounded in Hermione’s point of view, but the full fic has Fleur-centric scenes as well. We also chose only T rated scenes, to keep things friendly for Fleurmione Week, but the fic is rated **M** for **M** y God It Takes Them Three Years To Fuck, But Boy Do They.


	2. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A ~~Crush~~ Soulmate Is Revealed.** In the face of pureblood laws that target homosexual blood traitors and magical creatures, a wedding can offer protection during wartime. Bill and Fleur are a perfect match. Unfortunately, Philomène--Fleur’s grandmother--doesn’t see it that way. Things have been tense on the Delacour’s side of the aisle all day, and scheming Philomène plans to make a pointed statement with her wedding gift of a traditional Veela performance.

**August 1st, 1997 (Hermione)**

Their song was more reminiscent of the Veela she’d heard in the past than the embittered back and forth between Fleur and Philomène. Curling words and flowing sounds filled the tent as if from fifty women instead of the six that danced around each other.

Gabrielle was failing horribly at stifling a rush of giggles. Hermione glanced around the crowd, but no one else seemed to find anything funny about the performance. Apolline was glaring at her mother’s smug expression. Fleur was red-faced, her jaw clenched so tightly that Hermione could see the muscles flexing from three tables away.

She turned to Gabrielle who was still snickering behind her hand, “What’s so funny?”

Gabrielle dabbed at her eye with the side of a finger, careful not to smudge her mascara. “My grandmother,” she devolved into another fit of laughter, “oh, poor Fleur, it’s really quite rude.”

Hermione straightened. She scooted her chair closer and whispered sharply, her gaze locked on Fleur’s distress. “The song? It’s a story, right?” She could feel Gabrielle nodding beside her, “What is it about?”

Gabrielle was still trying to compose herself, “It’s an old folktale--a-a story used to warn children.”

“To warn them of what?” Hermione pressed. Gabrielle was working her way around to the point, but Hermione was desperate for her to get there faster. The urge to run to Fleur’s side was building in her chest.

“Ah,” the young woman sighed as she struggled to catch her breath, “the dangers of denying your mate bond.”

Hermione blinked and turned slowly to face Gabrielle, “Pardon me?”

“Mmm,” she hummed in affirmation before sitting taller in her chair and chirping out praise to the performers. She settled back down and Hermione put a hand on her forearm to focus her, “Yes, Fleur was blessed with a mate. I’m not sure who it is, but it’s not Bill. Mamie is quite upset with Fleur over this whole mess.”

Hermione shifted in her seat, “Gabrielle, can you tell me more about that? About the mate bond?”

She was struggling to hold the girl’s attention, “Uh, it’s a connection between two veela or, in my Grandmother’s case--and Fleur’s, a veela and a human...” she trailed off, shaking off Hermione’s hand as she stood and began twisting her body in rhythm with the singers.

“Gabrielle!” Hermione jumped at her own sharpness, but her tone had worked. Gabrielle sat down immediately and turned fully to face Hermione. A quick glance in Fleur’s direction told her that Fleur had heard it as well.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione quieted, “but please, this is important. I need you to tell me more about the mate bond.” Gabrielle eyed her warily and glanced in her mother’s direction. Hermione licked her lips and soothed, “I know you’re not supposed to tell humans, I know,” there was a tightness in her chest and her stomach was churning. 

Gabrielle’s gaze flicked from her mother to Fleur before settling back on Hermione. 

A pleading edge crept into Hermione’s voice, “Gabrielle.”

“Okay,” Gabrielle said, sighing. “Okay. Bonded pairs are rare even among pureblood veela, but the more distanced you are from the blood the less likely it becomes. I suppose it’s romantic, but it’s an awful lot of responsibility, really…”

They both glanced over at Fleur who had them pinned with an intense look, her body taut and leaning in their direction. “Continue,” Hermione pressed.

Gabrielle nodded and nervously tore her eyes away from her sister, “It’s a connection, it is supposed to be very intense-- incontournable et irrésistible. A few years ago, Fleur visited Mamie’s tribe, she was struggling with the death of the Diggory boy.” She took a deep breath, “Anyway, while she was there she told Mamie about a human...” Gabrielle faltered, “une fille.”

Hermione could see the gears turning in Gabrielle’s mind, the pieces falling into place. “Don’t stop, Gabrielle, keep going,” she urged, but the tightness in her chest had uncoiled, eased by a sudden calm certainty. “What happened next?” 

She wasn’t entirely sure that Gabrielle heard her. The younger girl whipped her head around to find Fleur again, but Hermione needed the truth, one iota of honesty, anything to prove that she hadn’t been crazy. “Gabrielle, look at me. _What happened next?_ ”

But Gabrielle was pulling away, standing and backing up until she was out of reach, and Hermione didn’t need Gabrielle’s explanations anymore. She found all the answers she needed in the way Fleur chased her sister from the tent. Her eyes lingered on the place where Fleur--her _mate_ \--had left, and all the air escaped her lungs.


	3. Day Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Dancing.** Hermoine and Fleur have been (figuratively) dancing around each other for months. After an almost-kiss on a Hogsmeade trip and with Fleur’s departure right around the corner, time is running short. Lee’s having a party in the Room of Requirement, is this Hermione’s last chance to shake Fleur out of her playful, but innocent, flirting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo the response to Day One has been legit and we are both stoked and appreciative to everyone who engaged with our fic. On to Day Two!

**June 23rd, 1995 (Hermione)**

Some part of her knew they needed to call it a night. Harry, Cedric, and Viktor had all passed through the shifting crowd to bid their farewells--each of them with warning words about staying up too late. She should really care, but she couldn’t find that feeling. Not even the thought of expulsion could move her towards the door.

Fleur didn’t seem to mind the hour, and every time Hermione thought to bring it up the song would change and Fleur would catch her eye and grin and pull her close and they’d be dancing again. 

She felt electric.

Fleur’s face radiated heat against hers and the strands of hair at her temples, too short to be caught up in her ponytail, had curled in the humidity of the room. They moved well together; Hermione had never been much of a dancer, but finding a rhythm with Fleur might have been the most natural thing in the world.

With the barest tilt of her head, Hermione’s nose bumped into Fleur’s slick cheek. She was thankful for the buzz, hot flush of firewhisky, something she could blame for the way Fleur’s touch lit her up. 

Some foggy memory of the morning after their Hogsmeade trip kept drifting behind her eyelids--the way controlled, focused Fleur had been unable to meet her eye but unwilling to look away. She longed for that feeling again. 

They were too comfortable and something in the firewhisky made her want to push just a little too far. She wanted Fleur unsure. 

She wanted Fleur to want her.

Maybe the night before the final task wasn’t the best time, but time was in short supply. She grabbed Fleur’s hands, lifting them from her hips and turning, pulling them around her. She felt Fleur at the back of her neck and with her eyes closed she could almost see the roguish smile wrapped around her chuckle. 

The school year was almost over, the Tournament would be coming to a close and the big blue carriage would fly away, taking Fleur with it. No matter how much smiling and flirting they’d done, it wouldn’t be enough to keep her there. Fleur would be back in France surrounded by pretty girls and pretty boys and Hermione would be here--where she’d always been.

Suddenly, the bellyful of liquor was heavy and her limbs felt like they weren’t a part of her body any more. She stopped dancing mid-song, throwing Fleur’s rhythm off until they were standing like statues in the middle of the throng of moving bodies, Fleur’s hand still resting over her stomach, breath still at her ear. She felt strong fingers clenching the fabric of her dress, knuckles against the sloshing unease, a tightening grip holding her against Fleur’s heaving chest.

What she really needed was for Fleur to _want_ to want her. Smiling and flirting wasn’t enough to hold her. If Fleur would only kiss her, would only _want_ to kiss her, maybe it would be enough to...

Fleur’s touch against her cheek made her jump. “Hermione, are you okay?” She read Fleur’s lips more than she heard her over the bass that had her lungs vibrating. Fleur’s brow creased and she tugged on Hermione’s hands, “We should go.”

The air was markedly cooler as they stepped through the door. Her skin was overheated and the near-constant damp cold of the stone walls felt like relief. From the moment the door shut behind them, the silence was all-encompassing; a sudden pressure compressed her eardrums and the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat. Fleur’s worried face hovered before her just like it had in the seconds before her bubblehead charm had failed. Hermione had wanted to reach out for her then, the memory of fighting against Dumbledore’s spell filled her muscles, but there was no magic to hold her back now.

She reached out and grabbed the front of Fleur’s t-shirt, muggy and damp with sweat, and lunged forward until they collided. Fleur’s lips were parted in surprise and their mouths didn’t fit together quite right.

She shoved Fleur away just as she was reaching for Hermione’s waist and spun on her heel, marching down the hall. Her body knew how to get back to Gryffindor Tower, even if her head was filled with thoughts of pink lips and blue eyes and the way Fleur’s brows nearly blended into her too-white skin. She was suddenly exhausted and more than ready to fall into bed.


	4. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Jealousy.** Fleur abruptly changes plans during the Battle of The Seven Potters when she realizes she’s the only one she trusts to protect Hermione, but after fighting off Voldemort himself they’ve missed their portkey. With a long thestral ride to think and Fleur’s marriage of convenience only days away, everything has just got Hermione feelin some type of way. Same girl, same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the snippet starts Hermione is still in Harry’s body, don’t be too confused when she randomly changes back. Part of Fleur ‘abruptly changing plans’ was not taking the Polyjuice potion (spoiler alert), so Fleur is just lookin’ like Fleur. What can we say, it’s a good look.

**July 27th, 1997 (Hermione)**

Hermione nodded and let out a breath as her arms fell to her sides. “Okay,” she breathed slowly in and out. “Okay. We fly to the Burrow.” Fleur had found her strength and seemed steadier on her feet; she’d ducked under the window to hang her body out, looking for the thestral. When she didn’t say anything, Hermione pressed, “Do you know how to get there from here?”

Fleur popped back inside. “Yes, I can get us there,” she said, moving towards Hermione. “Are you alright?”

A single, violent, laugh broke from Hermione’s mouth, “Am I alright?! What was that?!” She flung her arm in the direction of the door.

Fleur came to a stop a few paces away and shook her head. She took a moment to respond, shifting her weight. “I don’t know. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.” 

Hermione watched her carefully, “You were--” she searched for the words.

“It felt _right_.” Fleur said suddenly, quiet, head down and digging her thumb deep into the heel of her palm.

“ _\--scary_.”

The silence that followed was heavy and Hermione immediately regretted her choice of words. Fleur was biting her lip, studying her hand and the crescent imprint she’d left there. She looked so unlike herself, so unsure, so--“Maybe I needed to be scary,” Fleur murmured before raising her head back up. When their eyes met Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but then she was grimacing against a sudden lurch as her body began to change. She moaned, clutching at herself as sinew stretched and joints popped until she was Hermione again--curls and breasts and poor posture--and swimming in Harry’s clothes. 

A moment of softness flickered across Fleur’s features. Hermione saw a flash of that empty-socketed monster, but when she blinked it was only Fleur, turning for the door and gruffing, “we should go.”

Outside, Hermione struggled to keep pace as Fleur’s long, purposeful strides ate up the distance between the shack and the broken ruins of a burnt out barn. Hermione had to pull up short to keep from crashing into them when Fleur’s reaching hand impacted the invisible body of their thestral, closer than she expected. Fleur’s dirtied fingers scratched against solid invisibility, tracking what must’ve been a bobbing head. Hermione could almost see her with the abraxans, stroking between their eyes and kissing their noses; she had been so foolish, then, to think their lives overly-complicated. 

Fleur spoke to it in Veela; this time a haunting, low-sung sound. Hermione wasn’t sure if the beast understood the words but Fleur grabbed onto it and hopped, pulling herself up and throwing a leg over empty air. “--after tonight, you might be able to see him,” Fleur lilted back into English mid-song. When blue eyes met Hermione’s with an unspoken apology, she realized it wasn’t the thestral that Fleur had been talking to at all.

Fleur was right, she’d knocked a man off his broom, the odds of him recovering before he hit the ground were slim. She squeezed her eyes shut against the hot sting of tears. When she opened them again, Fleur was bent and offering her hand; Hermione took it and was lifted up onto a hard back.

In the sky again, Hermione took more slow, deep breaths. Holding on to Fleur felt better in her own body. They’d left the summer heat far below them and the chill of night rushing by helped to clear her mind. She sniffled and pressed her face into Fleur’s shoulder blade, “I wonder if Kingsley and Bill made it.”

Fleur laughed, her belly jumping under Hermione’s fingers; she pressed into it, digging her fingertips into Fleur’s shirt and feeling the way her stomach moved as she breathed. Every time felt like the last time they would be like this. Every touch felt like borrowed time. Hermione warmed her cold nose against the taut, unforgiving muscle beside Fleur’s spine and whispered, “Your wedding is in a few days… you should have gone with your husband. People will talk.”

A warm hand covered hers and twined their fingers together. Fleur’s voice was tinged with regret, barely audible as it caught on the wind, “He understands.”

They rode in silence for several wingbeats, the thestral carrying them a bit higher before Hermione felt it stretch out as it found an eddy and the ride smoothed. Hermione ran her thumb against Fleur’s and felt it twitch. The fabric between them was rough against her lips and she mumbled as she pressed her mouth into it, “How can he understand when I’m not even sure I do?”


	5. Day Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **There’s Only One Bed!** During the darkest days of the war, the trio is constantly moving to avoid snatchers while they search for the keys to defeating Voldemort. With the Order working hard on the front lines, Fleur has her own missions to attend to. When our Horcrux Hunter Extraordinaires stop in a town to resupply Hermione gets a little surprise from an unexpected visitor.

**January 14th, 1998 (Hermione)**

Hermione settled back onto her stool and sighed. She tried to watch Harry explain the game as she sipped her drink, but that nagging feeling was still at the back of her mind. Someone was _watching them._ The hairs on the back of her neck tickled and she slipped her hand under her curls to rough her skin. She twisted uneasily on the stool and swept her eyes around the inn again. None of the patrons were paying her any mind, neither was the barman, and no one was peeking in through the windows. There was a hallway, but it was lit well enough to see clear down to the wood-paneled wall at the end of it. Still, she dug into her jumper and squeezed the handle of her wand.

Ron was terrible at pool, but as it turned out, so was Harry. They’d each won a game and were playing a third to break the tie. The feeling grew while the boys laughed and jostled around each other, but instead of anxiety at the thought that they might’ve been discovered, Hermione only felt agitated; agitated because they didn’t think anything was wrong, agitated because she couldn’t shake the feeling.

She gave in and ducked into the hallway, following signs to the toilets. She pushed open the door of each stall--empty. With a sigh she checked her reflection in the mirror. They’d been using cleaning charms, but she was still grimy. It’d been nearly two weeks since they’d stayed anywhere but the tent and Harry had promised they’d have a chance to properly bathe.

She stood alone in the center of the room. Someone was _watching her._ It was stronger here than in the bar and Hermione cocked her head towards the door. The feeling was familiar, somehow. It certainly didn’t feel threatening, just...present. She poked her head out the door. The hall stopped at a dead-end further down, just as she’d seen from her stool, but there was light coming in from the side. Stairs. There was a set of stairs off the hallway. She picked up speed, clutching her wand tightly, and rounded the corner.

Pale blue eyes flicked up to meet her.

Fleur was sitting on the stairs, leaning her shoulder into the wall. She smiled.

“Fleur?!” Hermione hissed, looking back the way she’d come. She could see Ron’s hips and the back-half of his cue stick as he bent over the table. Harry walked behind Ron and she caught his attention with a wave, gestured up the stairs. His eyebrows quirked and he nodded.

Hermione licked her lips and turned to find Fleur pushing off the wall and getting to her feet, “What are you doing here?”

A smirk, “I missed you. Do I need an excuse?”

“No, of course not,” Hermione laughed and launched herself up the steps and into Fleur’s arms, “I just wasn’t expecting you!”

Hermione pressed into her, and something within her settled when their lips met. “I got us a room,” Fleur said as they parted, breathless.

“Harry already got us one.”

Fleur rolled her eyes and smoothed a thumb over one of Hermione’s brows. “Would you rather stay with your friends?”

Hermione grinned and shook her head, “It’s a hard sell.” Fleur made a happy noise and Hermione felt a little bit further from the darkness, the endless days on the run, in a way she hoped she’d never lose. She let Fleur tug her up a few steps, walking backwards with a sly smile. Hermione’s heart felt like it could burst, but before it did, Fleur turned and took the remaining stairs two at a time. 

She had her hands deep in the pockets of Fleur’s pants by the time the door swung open.

“It’s the nicest room they have,” Fleur said and Hermione peeked in over her shoulder. The room wasn’t all that nice, but it was perfect; she wouldn’t be spending the night crammed between Ron’s bony elbows and Harry’s restless kicking. 

“There’s only one bed. That’s terribly presumptuous of you, Ms. Delacour.” She slid between Fleur and the doorframe, spinning into the room and pinning Fleur with a sultry look. 

Fleur hummed and followed her, kicking the door shut behind them. She reached out and Hermione took her hands, guiding them to her hips. Fleur’s grip tightened and she pulled them together. Hermione draped her arms over strong shoulders, sighing happily as Fleur ran her nose up her neck. 

“There is only one bathtub, too,” Fleur murmured into the ticklish skin behind her ear, “but I didn’t think you would complain.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, “Oh?”

“Oui,” she nibbled at Hermione’s earlobe before stepping away. Hermione let herself be pulled around and spun until Fleur was pressed firmly against her back and walking her towards the open bathroom door, her long fingers working at the button of Hermione’s jeans.


	6. Day Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fleurmione Babies.** Oh my god, there’s a sequel. Hermione and Fleur work out of their crappy first apartment to rebuild a better world from the ashes of the war. Newly graduated, Hermione lands her dream job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It’s where she can do the most good--the perfect place for a young soldier turned government activist to start planning for her future.

****

**August 4th, 1999 (Hermione)**

There was a faint flickering of light, serene and calm, coming from a scattering of candles dotted around the room. The duvet had been stripped off the bed and spread out on the hardwood at the foot of it, and in the center of it was Fleur, hunched over a basket.

“What is this?” The words left her with a relieved exhale. 

Fleur’s head shot up, “I made dinner,” she tucked her hair behind her ear and gave a half-hearted shrug, frowning slightly and going back to digging, “well, sort of.”

A slow smile spread across Hermione’s face, “A picnic.”

Fleur glanced up again and wobbled her head side-to-side in an indecisive motion, “Yes.” She pulled out a stack of containers from somewhere elbow deep in the basket.

Hermione set her wand down on the mattress and dropped to her knees at the edge of the blanket. “What do you mean, you ‘sort of’ made dinner?”

Fleur hummed and handed Hermione a bag full of grapes, “Bill was the one who cut everything up.”

Hermione bit her lip and tugged the bag open, shifting onto a hip. “What you’re saying is that you didn’t make dinner at all.” She smirked at Fleur’s admonishing glare and pulled two grapes out between her knuckles, popping one into her mouth.

“I…” Fleur rolled her eyes. “I delegated.”

Hermione nodded, chewing. “What’s all this for?” She waved vaguely around at the spread as Fleur peeled the lids off of containers of sliced cheeses and chopped vegetables.

Fleur looked at her blankly, “Your interview.”

“What if I didn’t get it?”

Fleur snorted and tossed a plastic wrapped sandwich at Hermione’s chest, “Trust me, there was no doubt in my mind.”

“Well, you were right.” Hermione set down the grapes and started turning the sandwich over in her hands, looking for the edge of the film by candlelight. “You’re having dinner with the newest member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

She beamed proudly when Fleur leaned over the disorganized sprawl of crudités to kiss her. “Congratulations.”

“Maybe now I can get some real work done,” Hermione nodded resolutely and took a bite. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“You have already been doing it.” Fleur gave up trying to sort through the mess of food Bill had packed and stretched out, leaning back and holding herself up on her arms, “It is what you were doing when we first met, and you’ve never stopped, never slowed down.” She shrugged one shoulder, “I’ve never seen you hesitate. You help people.”

Hermione blushed at the matter-of-fact tone, the impassive toss of hair over her shoulder. “Yes, well,” she ducked her head and cleared her throat, “now I can get to work making changes.” When Fleur made to interject, Hermione cut her off “--real changes, systemic changes. I-I can make things better for house elves and-and veela too.” Hermione shrugged, “Protections, legal things…” she gestured, tried to make her words less heavy, more nonchalant, “for you, so you never have to marry Bill again...” the weak laugh she’d adopted tapered off, “for our kids.”

Hermione swallowed in the silence and glanced up. Fleur was watching her with that same unreadable look. Hermione’s eyelashes fluttered. “Or-or other…” her tongue felt thick amid the sudden tackiness of her mouth, “other beings, centaurs…”

“Our kids?” There was an unexpected fragility to Fleur’s voice, carefully constructed and deliberate but small, delicate. 

“I-I mean,” Hermione shrugged, “someday, right? Maybe?” She shook the nervous energy from her hands, “Oh, I don’t know.”

There was a crunch as Fleur’s knee landed on an unopened sleeve of crackers. Hermione barely had time to react before Fleur’s lips were on hers; she laughed into the kiss, letting Fleur topple them unceremoniously to the ground. She pushed back against Fleur’s chest until they parted, “Not any time soon.” Hermione reached out and ran the side of her finger against Fleur’s cheek, “but someday…”

Fleur smiled and pulled her close, tangling their legs together. There was another sound of distressed plastic and something distinctly cheese-like smushed beneath her ankle.

“Our kids,” Fleur repeated.

“Our kids.” Hermione confirmed. “But first I need to make some changes, and I’ll do it the right way this time.”

She could see, in the dancing light of the candles, the way Fleur was mapping her face. She cupped the side of Fleur’s neck, tilting her chin up to meet her lips. When they parted, Fleur’s voice was full of wonder, “My mate always has to save the world…” she trailed off into Veela. The tune was too soft for Hermione to hear, but she could feel it under her palm. She stroked her thumb against the shake of Fleur’s throat and silenced her with another kiss.

“I love you,” Hermione whispered.


	7. Day Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Free Day.** In the eerie darkness at the bottom of the Black Lake, Hermione awaits rescue in an agonizing and anxiety-inducing stasis. Viktor is nowhere in sight and time is running out, forcing Fleur to make a split-second decision that will alter the course of their lives forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re a day late but...last day, last teaser. And it’s not even a teaser, it’s an entire scene. It’s a short one, so we thought no one would mind. We’ll be working diligently on finishing this fic so we can present it in a beta’d (lol sorry about any sloppy editing, we are our own echo chamber) and complete form. Thank you for checking in, or for sticking around if you’ve been reading since day one— your curiosity means the world to us.

**February 24th, 1995 (Hermione)**

They’d made it so she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, but they’d left her eyes open. The few sun shafts that fought their way through the clouds to break the water’s surface faded away into darkness high above her. She was so deep in the Black Lake that the only light came from bioluminescent grasses and the hazy blues of the merpeople’s village.

Cedric had flown by some time ago, his wake sending her spinning until she was able to see Ron suspended next to her. Now it was so still that she could hear her heart reverberating in her ears; its beat had been slowed by a spell she hadn’t had time to research and the unnatural feeling of it had her on edge.

She was grateful for another current as familiar pale arms started to tread water at her side. Harry’s face swam into her vision, his hair weightless and inky in the dim lighting. His head bowed as he looked down at something out of her eyeline and a screech split through the water. Harry kicked backwards and the blades of a trident flashed in front of her.

“But she’s my friend too,” his voice came bubbling out, muffled by the oppressive weight of the water around them. There was a rush of movement and she was back to staring at the empty stretch of foggy blue. She felt the displacement of water as Harry began pulling Ron to the surface.

Minutes passed and her heart pumped in her chest, one beat, then another—spaced so far apart that panic started to rise. One beat and then another. 

A cloud of blonde hair brought an unnatural brightness and suddenly Fleur’s eyes were all she could see. They searched Hermione’s face for several slow thuds of her heart before fear flashed in them and the bubble covering Fleur’s nose and mouth broke. Her limbs started to flail and Hermione struggled to reach out but Dumbledore’s magic was strong and her body refused to cooperate.

She watched, helpless, as a painful noise split the water accompanied by another stab of a trident in her peripheral vision. Fleur’s eyes narrowed, the fear leaving them as quickly as it had come, replaced by fury; she opened her mouth and exhaled, some warning vibration leaving her mouth around a thick column of bubbles. Miraculously, Hermione saw several dark shadows darting away through the water. 

Fleur turned back to her, treading water. She disappeared from view and before the next echoing heartbeat came, Hermione felt the tension of the seaweed around her ankle give and a solid arm wrap around her waist. She was pressed to Fleur’s chest, radiating heat in the freezing water. She could hear Fleur’s heartbeat, strong and fast, drowning out her own.

Her body seized when they hit the surface, muscles spasming as she regained control. The hand against Hermione’s stomach clenched in her robes and Fleur’s panting breath was hot against the side of her face. Hermione kicked out against the water to buoy herself. Fleur had her in one arm and her little sister in the other.

Suddenly she and Gabrielle were holding Fleur up. Hermione could hear Gabrielle gasp from Fleur's other side and she kicked harder; even in the water, Fleur was much heavier than Hermione thought she would be. Fleur regained her strength quickly and the weight eased just as Hermione’s legs began to seize. 

Her accented voice rattled between gasps, “Are you alright?”

Hermione gulped down a breath. Fleur’s eyes were locked onto hers; under the cloudy sky they were the same dark iron as the water around them. They were so close that there was nowhere else to look, nothing else to do but stare. Hermione’s eyes fell to the tiny space between their faces where they struggled to share the same air. “Yes,” Hermione’s throat was raw. She swallowed and wiped away the hair clinging to her cheek.

Fleur gave a short nod and her arm slipped from around Hermione’s waist. The blonde leaned backwards and with a powerful kick she was skimming away, pulling her sister along beside her.

Past their retreating forms, Hermione could see Harry kneeling at the edge of the platform--teetering precariously--one hand bracing against it and the other splashing in the water as if it’d draw her to him from fifty yards away. She dug deep and found the strength to start paddling closer.

It was only moments before Krum broke through the crowd, diving swiftly in. His arms cut through the water and he closed in quickly. Her body was tired and she rested her hands on his shoulders when he pulled up in front of her. He was shaking his head, his face pale and worried, “I’m sorry, I got overrun.”

“It’s alright, Viktor, it’s alright,” she patted his cheek gently and let herself catch her breath as he towed her back to the platform.

He lifted her above his head with a bruising grip and Harry caught her arms, hauling her the rest of the way up. He rolled her onto her back. “Are you okay, ‘Mione?” Harry’s teeth were chattering, dried strands of hair whipping around in the wind.

She looked up at the grey sky above them and nodded. “Fleur saved me.” Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Harry twist to scan the crowd. She hoisted herself up onto her elbows to follow his gaze.

Fleur was down on one knee in front of Gabrielle, gripping her tightly by her slim shoulders and pressing their foreheads together. A strange noise blew on the breeze and Hermione sat up straighter, her brow furrowing in concentration. It was a melody, but spoken, lilted and rolling--originating somewhere in the cave of Fleur’s mouth. Hermione leaned forward.

Gabrielle nodded and wiped the water from her face with both hands. Fleur’s long fingers tucked a strand of hair behind a pink ear. She pressed her lips to Gabrielle’s cheek, and when she finally glanced over her shoulder it was to lock eyes with Hermione.


End file.
